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Page 35
The lady turned her mournful eyes once, with a half-frightened look,
toward it, and pressed closer to her loyal protector. Her eyes were dry
and bright. Sorrow seemed to have done its utmost with her. The fount of
tears was dried; feeling itself paralyzed.
Doctor James was standing near the table, his overcoat donned, his hat
and medicine case in his hand. His face was calm and impassive--practice
had inured him to the sight of human suffering. His lambent brown eyes
alone expressed a discreet professional sympathy.
He spoke kindly and briefly, stating that, as the hour was late, and
assistance, no doubt, difficult to procure, he would himself send the
proper persons to attend to the necessary finalities.
"One matter, in conclusion," said the doctor, pointing to the safe with
its still wide-open door. "Your husband, Mrs. Chandler, toward the end,
felt that he could not live; and directed me to open that safe, giving
me the number upon which the combination is set. In case you may need to
use it, you will remember that the number is forty-one. Turn several
times to the right; then to the left once; stop at forty-one. He would
not permit me to waken you, though he knew the end was near.
"In that safe he said he had placed a sum of money--not large--but
enough to enable you to carry out his last request. That was that you
should return to your old home, and, in after days, when time shall have
made it easier, forgive his many sins against you."
He pointed to the table, where lay an orderly pile of banknotes,
surmounted by two stacks of gold coins.
"The money is there--as he described it--eight hundred and thirty
dollars. I beg to leave my card with you, in case I can be of any
service later on."
So, he had thought of her--and kindly--at the last! So late! And yet the
lie fanned into life one last spark of tenderness where she had thought
all was turned to ashes and dust. She cried aloud "Rob! Rob!" She
turned, and, upon the ready bosom of her true servitor, diluted her
grief in relieving tears. It is well to think, also, that in the years
to follow, the murderer's falsehood shone like a little star above the
grave of love, comforting her, and gaining the forgiveness that is good
in itself, whether asked for or no.
Hushed and soothed upon the dark bosom, like a child, by a crooning,
babbling sympathy, at last she raised her head--but the doctor was gone.
THE MARQUIS AND MISS SALLY
[Originally published in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, June, 1903.]
Without knowing it, Old Bill Bascom had the honor of being overtaken by
fate the same day with the Marquis of Borodale.
The Marquis lived in Regent Square, London. Old Bill lived on Limping
Doe Creek, Hardeman County, Texas. The cataclysm that engulfed the
Marquis took the form of a bursting bubble known as the Central and
South American Mahogany and Caoutchouc Monopoly. Old Bill's Nemesis was
in the no less perilous shape of a band of civilized Indian cattle
thieves from the Territory who ran off his entire herd of four hundred
head, and shot old Bill dead as he trailed after them. To even up the
consequences of the two catastrophes, the Marquis, as soon as he found
that all he possessed would pay only fifteen shillings on the pound of
his indebtedness, shot himself.
Old Bill left a family of six motherless sons and daughters, who found
themselves without even a red steer left to eat, or a red cent to buy
one with.
The Marquis left one son, a young man, who had come to the States and
established a large and well-stocked ranch in the Panhandle of Texas.
When this young man learned the news he mounted his pony and rode to
town. There he placed everything he owned except his horse, saddle,
Winchester, and fifteen dollars in his pockets, in the hands of his
lawyers, with instructions to sell and forward the proceeds to London to
be applied upon the payment of his father's debts. Then he mounted his
pony and rode southward.
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